


My Sherlock Ideas

by AmethystPanda6



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Cannon things from John's blog, F/M, John being cute, M/M, OFC is a BAMF, Reichenbach Fall, Sherlock was an ass, mary doesn't exist
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-24
Updated: 2015-06-24
Packaged: 2018-04-05 21:46:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4196058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmethystPanda6/pseuds/AmethystPanda6
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>These are just some ideas I've been toying around with for a few months now and I finally decided to post them on here. Almost all of these are my own, there's only four that I borrowed from the show and tweaked just a bit, you can figure out which scenes I used. They're pretty easy to find.</p><p>A lot of the scenes are medium to long with a few shorter ones and I had a great deal of fun writing these.</p>
    </blockquote>





	My Sherlock Ideas

**Author's Note:**

> These are just some ideas I've been toying around with for a few months now and I finally decided to post them on here. Almost all of these are my own, there's only four that I borrowed from the show and tweaked just a bit, you can figure out which scenes I used. They're pretty easy to find.
> 
> A lot of the scenes are medium to long with a few shorter ones and I had a great deal of fun writing these.

“Two years, Sherlock! Two goddamn years and you couldn’t be bothered to tell John and I you were alive. You really are a cock like John says.” I shout at him furiously while pacing up and down 221B, glancing down at my left hand every once in a while, the ring John gave me glittering slightly in the low lighting of the living room. John sits quietly in his chair while I continue to yell at my arse of a twin brother.

“I meant to get in touch with you, I swear. I just couldn’t find time. Johanna, you have to believe me.”

“No, Sherlock, I’m tired of your excuses. When you’re ready to tell us the real reason you faked your suicide, you know where to find us. Come along, John.”

“Wait. Johanna, please.” Sherlock begs, a sad look crossing through his blue eyes.

“What now, Sherlock?’

“Are you two happy?”

“Yes, Johanna and I are very happy.” John replies as he comes to stand next to me, wrapping his arm around my waist.

As John and I walk out of the flat, I reach down and grab his hand tightly in mine. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to forgive him, John.”

John turns towards me and brings the hand that is not holding mine up to caress my face. “I know, love. It will take time but eventually, it’ll get easier.”

\---------------------------------------------------

John and I get out of the cab and rush towards Bart’s to get Sherlock. When we get close to the door, John’s phone rings, he answers and puts the phone on speaker.

“Hello?”

“John. Johanna.” 

“Hey, Sherlock, you okay?” John asks worriedly.

“Turn around and walk back the way you came.”

“No! We’re coming in!”

“Just do as I ask! Please.”

“Where?” John and I turn around and walk back towards the cab.

“Stop there!”

“Sherlock?”

“Okay, look up. I’m on the roof top.”

“Oh God.” John and I gasp at the same time.

“I-I-I can’t come down so we-we’ll just have to do it like this.”

“What’s going on?”

“An apology. It’s all true.”

“What?” John asks.

“Everything they said about me, I invented Moriarty.”

John pauses as he thinks of his next question, both of us gazing up at Sherlock. I’m glad John is doing all the talking because it feels as if my heart is in my throat and I can’t breathe.

“Why are you saying this?”

“I’m a fake.” Sherlock’s voice trembles with unshed tears.

“Sherlock...”

“The newspapers were right all along. I want you to tell Lestrade. I want you to tell Mrs. Hudson and Molly. In fact, tell anyone that will listen to you that I created Moriarty for my own purposes.”

“Mkay. Shut up, Sherlock. Shut up. The first time we met, the first time we met, you knew all about my sister, right?”

“Nobody could be that clever.”

“You could.” Is John’s simple reply.

Sherlock laughs bitterly through his tears and I can see him shake his head slightly. “I researched you. Before we met, I discovered everything that I could to impress you... It’s a trick. Just a magic trick.”

John shakes his head. “No. Alright, stop it now.”

John and I start to walk towards Bart’s again. “No! Stay exactly where you are. Don’t move.” Sherlock commands through the phone, his arm reaching out as if to grab us and keep us where we are.

John and I put our hands up and back away from the building.“Alright. We won’t move.”

“Keep your eyes fixed on me. Please, will you do this for me?”

“Do what?” John asks.

“This phone call, it’s uh, it’s my note. It’s what people do, don’t they? Leave a note.”

“Leave a note when?”

“Goodbye, John. Goodbye, Johanna.”

“Nope. Don’t.” John replies.

Sherlock pulls his phone away from his ear and tosses it behind him somewhere on the roof. His eyes now fixed on a point in front of him instead of on John and I.

“Shit. Sherlock!” John and I say together.

We watch as Sherlock jumps off the building. His arms and legs flailing as his trench coat and scarf flutter behind him. “Sherlock.” John whispers.

We start jogging across the street towards where Sherlock’s body is on the ground when a guy on a bicycle crashes into John and I, sending us both to the ground, disorienting us for a few moments. When I gain control of my limbs again, I jump up and continue across the street to Sherlock, John trailing behind me a few paces.

“Let me through! Please! Let me through! That’s my brother! Sherlock! No! You can’t leave John and I alone...please...” I yell, my voice trailing into a whisper at the end as I shove my way through the crowd of people around Sherlock.

I finally break through the crowd and look at Sherlock on the ground, bleeding heavily after he jumped off the roof of Bart’s. Reaching down, I grab his wrist, searching for a pulse. 

“I’m a doctor! Let me come through. Let me come through please. No, he’s my friend. He’s my friend, please. Sherlock, no...please, let me just...” I hear John behind me.

When I fail to find a pulse in Sherlock’s wrist, my body goes numb and my mind shuts off as I slump to the ground and allow John to pull me away from the corpse of my brother. Now knowing there was no way that he could still be alive after jumping four stories, hell, the cracking noise of his ribs when he hit the pavement was enough to know, the cruel reality set in. Sherlock Holmes is dead. The rain that was just a slight drizzle before now coming down harder as John pulls me into his side and allows me to cry in his shoulder as he cries in my hair, our tears mixing with the rain as we stand in the middle of the street hugging.

\---------------------------------------------------------------

“You knew how I felt about him, Johanna! You knew the entire time and you still took him from me!” Sherlock yells at me as he paces up and down the living room of his flat.

“You left us, Sherlock. You left John and I for two years! We grew closer, first just kinda mourning and boxing up our things. Then, as the months grew on, John and I were closer than ever and it eventually led to us dating. Now we’re engaged. You can’t blame me for your own selfish mistake of never telling John that you’re in love with him.”

“You know, John is only dating you because you look like me.” Sherlock states in a flat voice as he stands in front of me and glares.

“No. No! You’re wrong, John loves me.” My voice comes out in a broken whisper.

“Does he? Mm. You must be mistaken.”

“You know what, Sherlock?”

“What?”

“You’re an ass and I hate your guts!” I scream at him.

“No, you don’t. You love me.” Sherlock’s voice breaks as the words sink in.

“No. I hate you. I hate you so much right now, Sherlock.” My voice now dropping to a whisper again.

At that moment, John walks in the door to see Sherlock and I in the middle of the flat, breathing heavily and crying. “What in the hell happened between the two of you?” John asks.

“We had an argument, that’s all. I’m leaving. I’ll see you at home, John.” I reply before starting to walk out of the flat.

Sherlock’s arm reaches out to catch mine, he lifts his head and looks at me with pleading eyes. “Johanna, please. I’m sorry.”

“No, Sherlock. I’ve had enough of this. Goodbye.” I yank my arm out of Sherlock’s grasp and leave the flat, slamming the door on the way out.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------

When John and I arrive back at the flat after Sherlock’s funeral, I hang my trench coat and scarf on the hook behind the door before going to sit on the couch and place my hands together against my lips in what John likes to call “The Holmes Siblings’ Thinking Pose”, thinking about that makes me laugh bitterly. I hear John rummaging about the kitchen, probably looking for food. Knowing that John is occupied, I go into Sherlock’s old room and sit on his bed, debating on whether or not to call Mycroft. Just when I’m about to call, John comes in the room and sits next to me on the bed.

“There’s no food in the flat. We’ll have to order takeaway.”

“That’s fine. I’m not hungry.”

John sighs. “Johanna, when was the last time you ate?”

“I don’t know. A week ago, maybe two. I don’t keep track. Why?” I shrug and glance at him out of the corner of my eye.

“Johanna, that’s not healthy. You’re worse than Sherlock was. I understand that he was your twin and you balanced each other out, but you still need to eat.”

“Fine. I’ll eat, but, can I please get some cigarettes?”

John sighs and gets up to go grab something, only to return a moment later with a pack of cigarettes in his hand. “Had to hide these from you and Sherlock but now that he’s gone, I guess you can have them.” He says as he tosses the small white box to me.

I catch it on instinct. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Now let’s go.”

“Okay. Okay. You don’t need to be so pushy.” I reply as John gets up and walks out the door of Sherlock’s bedroom with me trailing behind him. 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I wake up with a start, my breath coming out in pants as I look around me, I feel an arm around my waist and look to my left. John is next to me fast asleep with his arm on my waist, hugging me to him lightly. Feeling this helps me calm down.

John stirs a bit, probably sensing that I’ve awoken, and rolls on his side to face me. “You okay?”

“Yes John, I’m fine. Just had a bad dream is all.”

“Was it about Sherlock again?”

“Of course it was. I miss him so much but I know he lied to us.”

“About what?” John asks as he sits up.

“Everything being a lie. I know Sherlock, better than anyone else on this planet, he was my twin for God’s sake! I know he didn’t research you before you two met. There was no way he could have, I was by his side all day long. We were finishing up work in the lab when you walked in to ask about the flat. I know there was no way he could have done that. He lied to you to protect you. I don’t believe he’s dead. I know he’s out there somewhere, I can feel it.” I explain to John.

“Johanna, you have to let this go. Sherlock is dead! We saw him jump.”

“Yes, but John, we were knocked on the ground for a few moments, that’s enough time for us to have missed something!”

“No! Johanna. Stop this. Stop this madness right now!”

I ignore John as I filter through all the memories I have of Sherlock, stopping on all the games of Cluedo we played with John, both Sherlock and I deducing that the victim was the murderer and faked their death. “Oh God. We’re both idiots. John, go get your laptop.”

“What do you need my laptop for?”

“Just go get it!”

John nods and gets up to go retrieve his laptop from the desk in our bedroom. When he comes back, I quickly grab the piece of technology and wait for it to turn on. After the laptop finally boots up, I open the Internet and type in the IP address of John’s blog and go to the entry dated for the 26th of April and scroll down to the bottom. I mutter to myself for not figuring this out sooner.

“John, remember all those games of Cluedo we played together?” I ask him in a low, unsteady voice.

“Yes, of course, why?”

“Think John. Think!”

“Wait, you and Sherlock always deduced that the victim faked their death when clearly they didn’t...”

“Yes, now think!”

John gasps. “Are you trying to imply that Sherlock faked his death?”

“That’s exactly what I’m implying, John.”

"No. That's impossible..." I hear John whisper.

While John filters through his thoughts, trying to get them in order, I filter through my memories of Sherlock again, stopping on the ones moments before he jumped to his death, after the lies about researching John. I gasp at the very end and replay the moment over and over again.

"John, what did Sherlock say to you right after he lied about having researched you?" I ask while turning towards John again.

"'It's a trick. Just a magic trick.' but what does that have to do with Cluedo?" He replies, confusion filling his voice.

"I'm going to need you to think again, John."

John gasps in realization. "Are you trying to tell me that Sherlock was trying to tell me that he wasn't actually going to kill himself."

"Yes, John. I think it's time we go visit Mycroft and have a chat." I tell him as I get out of bed to get ready.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

John, Mrs. Hudson, and I stand in front of Sherlock’s grave, me gripping on to John’s arm tightly so I don’t break out in sobs, it's been about four months since Sherlock's death. John is having a conversation with Mrs. Hudson but I do my best to block it out while John holds me close and I bury my face in his shoulder, I hear Mrs. Hudson say that she’ll let John and I have a moment alone with Sherlock and she walks away from us. John rubs my shoulder in a comforting motion and lets out a shaky breath. After he regains his composure, he lets me go and walks closer to Sherlock’s grave before he begins talking to him.

“Uhm. Hm. You, you told me once that you weren’t a hero. Uhm. There were times I didn’t even think you were human but, let me tell you this, you were the best man, uh, the most human, human being that I’ve ever known and no one will ever convince me that you told me a lie. And so, there. I was so alone and I owe you so much. Okay.” John turns around and walks towards me. 

At the last moment, John remembers something and turns back towards Sherlock’s grave, his voice starting to break. “Oh please, there’s just one more thing, one more thing. One more miracle, Sherlock, for me. Don’t. Be. Dead. Would you do that? Just for me? Just stop it. Stop this.” When he’s finished with his monologue, John pats Sherlock's grave a few times before placing his face in his hand as quiet sobs wrack through his body.

Not wanting me to see him crying, John straightens and wipes the tears from his eyes, regaining composure and turning back towards me so we can leave the cemetery and go home. As we’re leaving, I see a figure in the distance that looks like Sherlock and turn to look, which distracts John enough to stop and look at me. 

“Johana, what’s going on?”

I turn to look at him before replying. “John, does that look like Sherlock to you?” I ask and gesture behind me with my head.

“Does what look like Sherlock?”

I turn and look, confused by his question, only to see that the person disappeared. “No, I saw him. I really did see him.”

“Johanna, you’re tired and malnourished, you were probably just imagining things. Let’s get you home and feed you.”

“You’re probably right, John. Let’s go.” I reply and grab his hand.

He leads me out of the cemetery to the cab so we can go home and eat. The image of Sherlock standing just metres away from me in the cemetery firmly stuck in my mind.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------

I stand outside with Sherlock and Mycroft, the three of us smoking and the two of them talking about Sherlock doing something in a different country, I’m not really paying much attention. John is inside with our mum and dad talking about whatever but the front door opens and mum pokes her head out.

“Are you three smoking?”

“No!” Mycroft answers.

“It was Mycroft!” Sherlock and I say at the same time, both of us holding in the smoke while our hands holding the cigarettes go behind our backs.

Mum just shakes her head and goes back inside, after she does, Mycroft turns to glare at Sherlock and I as we exhale the smoke from our lungs, both of us sporting small smirks.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

I pace up and down the lab of St. Bart's as Sherlock continues to work on identifying substances we found at the scene under his microscope, John standing off to the side while we wait for Molly to return. I cease pacing and stand directly in the middle of the lab, my thoughts finally making sense. I go to my mind manor and start working through things, organizing and reorganizing. I faintly hear John and Sherlock talking with the now returned Molly in the background but I'm focused enough that it fades out into silence. Now getting deep into my mind manor, I focus on the small details while Sherlock looks at the substances under the microscope and identifies them. I start to rapidly move things in the air as I saw them, muttering quietly to myself as I did, trying to match things up with other things, discarding the unnecessary and irrelevant information that didn’t matter at the moment, like the fact that John doesn’t take sugar in his tea. However, that gets shoved rather messily in the file for him, no time to organize. Must help Sherlock and John solve this case.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------

I arrive at the crime scene with Sherlock, John has a shift at the hospital again so he asked me to tag along, just like old times, and see Donovan leaning against Lestrade’s car talking to Anderson. We walk past the two of them, turning up the collars of our trench coats as we do. Just like normal, Donovan calls out to us.

“Oi! Freaks, you can’t be here.” She says in her snarky voice.

Anderson then speaks. “Yeah, closed crime scene, you two should just-” I cut him off.

“Anderson, I suggest you refrain from saying another word unless you want me to tell your wife about the affair you’ve been having with Donovan.” I say with a smirk, Sherlock chuckling next to me. 

The two of them look guilty, having thought that only Sherlock knew about their amorous activities when alone. Now that the two of them have been thoroughly embarrassed, Sherlock and I duck under the police tape and make our way to Lestrade near the body. When Sherlock and I reach the body, Sherlock crouches on one side and I on the other, the both of us making our deductions. I hand Sherlock a pair of rubber gloves and he puts them on as I put on my own. I feel around the woman’s pockets to see if there’s anything of value while Sherlock looks at her hands. The two of us working in silence, pretty normal for us, with the occasional glance at each other to confirm or deny suspicions.

When Sherlock and I finish making our deductions, we stand and report to Lestrade what we've found before walking out into the light. Sherlock looks down at me with a small smile and a question in his eyes.

"How did you know about Anderson and Donovan having an affair?"

"It's obvious, Sherlock. Did you see her knees? Also, they're wearing the same deodorant and used the same shampoo. Her clothes showed signs of being worn for longer than one day, and there's a very obvious hickey on her neck that she tried to hide with make-up, and a stain on the left breast of her jacket." I reply while chuckling.

"Ah. But what about Anderson being married?"

"Another easy one. He didn't have on a ring but there was an obvious tan line on his left ring finger where a ring would go, obviously meaning he either takes it off for work or when Donovan is over and he doesn't want to lose it."

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------

John sits in his chair, Sherlock's trench coat draped over his shoulder with his face in his hands while he shakes from silent sobs. Lestrade is on the phone trying to tell me to bring the coat because it's evidence, but I can't because I won't cause John anymore pain. After me threatening to tell Molly about his crush on her, Lestrade backs off and says John can keep the coat. I walk over to John and wrap my arm around his shoulder.

"What'd Lestrade want?" John asks, although it's a bit muffled.

"It doesn't matter, I took care of it." I reply.

John nods and leans against my side. "I miss him, he was my best friend, and made me feel less alone."

"I know John, I miss him too. Sherlock and I were obnoxious to be around most of the time when we happened to be together, but we balanced each other out. That's why he liked to keep you around, you made him less of an ass. At least that's what he told me, I didn't help him at all, and he didn't help me. We just fell into a routine of working together and not caring what went on around us. Believe me, John, you made us both better people." I tell him while patting his arm.

John smiles and wipes his face while I stand up and walk over to the window that Sherlock stood in front of to play his violin. With my own blue house coat and pyjamas on, I pick up the violin that sits on the floor by the window and start to play the melody that Sherlock wrote long ago that he dedicated to himself and I. I hear John gasp as I play and try to keep a straight enough face so I don’t break down in tears. Footsteps on the stairs to the flat alert me of someone approaching but I continue playing until the end of the song. As far as I can tell, there’s more than one person. When I finish the song, I stay still and gaze out the window more.

I hear Molly behind me. “Sherlock?”

At that, I set the violin down and turn in a flurry of my house coat and go shut myself in Sherlock’s old room, sliding down to the floor and crying.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------

THIRD PERSON POV

Sherlock walks down the street to the crime scene, a woman about a foot shorter and wearing almost identical clothing walking beside him. From far away, the others can't see the almost identical features this woman has to Sherlock, the difference being their cheekbones, hers less sharp and angular. Assuming that the woman is Sherlock's girlfriend, Anderson and Donovan decide to tease Sherlock about it. However, before they can speak, the woman beside Sherlock speaks.

“I suggest you two hold whatever you are about to say inside those empty heads of yours because you are wrong about Sherlock and I being a couple.” She tells them, and with a flourish of their trench coats, the two Holmes siblings walk inside.

Sherlock and his sister try to contain their giggling behind a smile but when the pair are far enough away, they can’t contain it anymore. Sherlock is the first to speak. “Their faces! Oh, that was great, they were so shocked. You have to do that more often, Johanna.” 

“Of course I will, Sherlock, they’re bumbling idiots, it’s only fair to make fun of them.” She replies.

“Okay, now, let’s get to work.” Sherlock says and grabs out his miniature spyglass from a pocket in his trench coat to investigate the body.

Johanna smiles and works alongside Sherlock, the pair falling into their usual pattern of working around each other in perfect synchrony. The small group gathered in the room looks at the pair in awe, not understanding how the two work together without speaking.


End file.
